Eighty-one Songs
by Auj-Oule
Summary: A collection of short stories centered around Gaius and Wingul, one for each track of the OST. Will contain spoilers for the entire first game, but none for the second. Rating may change as more stories are uploaded. Second chapter up!
1. Milla's Theme - Mission

**Milla's Theme - Mission**

* * *

It was really a shame, Gaius reflected as he was sneaking out of Trigleph. He hadn't thought that Milla, of all people, would agree to a plan that had, all things considered, terrible odds of succeeding.

It wasn't that he hadn't expected them to oppose his plan. Most of them were young and inexperienced, too much so to understand that the world did not adhere to ideals, no matter how noble they might be. He himself had learned that lesson the hard way and he had grown used to choosing the lesser evil, as much as it might gall him that it was necessary.

They, on the other hand, had not yet encountered a situation where this was required. So far, they had chosen between good and evil, a choice that wasn't hard to make. But then there was Rowen, with years of experience in politics and warfare- a man who should have known by now that in some situations, sacrifices were a sad necessity to reach one's goal. It was astonishing, to say the least, that he had agreed to a plan so risky and unfinished without objecting. Gaius had not expected the Conductor to be drawn into a folly like this.

And then Milla. She had not seemed so naive before. Maybe she hadn't known much about human society, but she had never hesitated to do what needed to be done. Why was she balking now? Her stance had been that spyrixes should be kept out of human hands, yet now she was ready to believe that the Elympians would willingly and meekly agree to destroy all of them?

He doubted it.

What he had seen in this world had done little to convince him that it would happen. The Elympians had known that their technology was causing their world to wither away, even if they hadn't understood the reason. Yet apparently they had barely even considered reducing their spyrix use, much less stopping it completely. They had preferred to enslave an entire people and turn them into fuel instead. No, he did not think they would hand over their spyrixes.

Maybe they _would _agree to replace them. It was a possibility, he admitted as much. But relying on largely untested and unfinished technology that had proven to have severe side effect at times? There was no telling yet whether spyrites were even capable of replacing all spyrixes, and if they weren't, then what?

What options remained? The Elympians needed to be forced to give up their spyrixes. There was no way around it. He did not like needlessly shedding blood and he would try to avoid it whenever possible, but sometimes, it could not be helped.

As he entered the spirit world, he could not help but feel disappointment since Milla had chosen this path. She would have made a useful ally. Now, it would remain to be seen whose will was strong enough to prevail.


	2. The Meaning of the Mission

**The Meaning of the Mission**

* * *

"_Why? Why are you doing this?"_

Arst found himself thinking back to these words as he went to bed that evening. The city they had taken today... people had died, many of them by his own hands. He'd ordered civilians and soldiers who surrendered to be spared, but so many of them had fought back. It had been necessary to crush the opposition, he _needed_ this city to proceed any further, but he found that it was no solace to know that when the faces of people haunted him- innocent people who had never asked for this war, crying over the mangled bodies of their dead loved ones.

And then these words. "Why are you doing this?" Why had he brought the war to them, why had he destroyed their lives?

I didn't, he wanted to shout. I told you to surrender, I told you I would spare you, I didn't want to do this, this wasn't meant to be a bloodbath...

Yet what good was that? What good would it do anyone to know that he hadn't intended to take the city by force? It wouldn't bring back the dead. The ones killed by his hand or command. No matter how he twisted, he was to blame for the slaughtering, the deaths...

He could have said that he was fighting for their own good, that it was their own fault for resisting, but that left the bitter taste of hypocrisy in his mouth. Did he even have the right to say that he fought for a better Auj-Oule if his conquest only served to make people more miserable? What was the point of this war, then? He had set out to dethrone Merad, to right the wrongs he saw, but all he had done today was to cause more suffering, the very thing he seeked to end.

Was he right in doing what he was doing? Or should he just... stop? Stop and crawl back home and forget anything ever happened?

And then the memory of three years ago came back. He remembered Lars, the Long Dau patriarch, staying behind on a hill while sending his soldiers to their deaths. Lars, laughing at him, saying that he did not care about lowly peasant soldiers.

And wasn't that the difference … ? Lars, and Merad too, wouldn't lie awake at night because of what happened, would they? They wouldn't have cared, just as Lars hadn't cared then.

Arst cared. He wanted to create a nation where the elite cared and he still believed in that goal.

Yes, he was to blame for what happened today, but in the end, he realised, that just meant he had to try even harder. The lives taken today should not have been in vain. He had a duty not to fail them.

That was the true meaning of his mission. The throne didn't matter much. Creating a better future for everyone did.


End file.
